


An Angel Teaches Poetry to a Demon

by mandybrooke27



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel & Demon Interactions, Angel/Demon Relationship, Arguing, M/M, Married Couple, Other, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandybrooke27/pseuds/mandybrooke27
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley live in a flat together. Aziraphale brings home a couple of magnetic poetry kits, thinking the magnets would be a fun hobby to share with Crowley. Crowley has other ideas.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	An Angel Teaches Poetry to a Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and deepest gratitude to Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, David Tennant, and Michael Sheen for these wonderful characters and their ineffable love story. Also, many thanks to magneticpoetry.com for the words that inspired some rather atrocious angel and demon fridge magnet poetry.

Aziraphale and Crowley were finally settled in their new flat in Soho. Their answering machine had a proper outgoing message. The office bookshelves were overflowing with Aziraphale’s prized book collection. The Bentley had a reserved spot in a convenient garage nearby. There was even a room in the flat with sunny bay windows for all of Crowley’s trembling plants. Life on Earth was good, and neither angel nor demon could be any happier with their lot.

As Aziraphale was doing inventory in his bookshop one day, he came across a stack of magnetic poetry kits. “Well, these are rather fun!” he exclaimed to himself as he opened one and rifled through the tiny word-filled magnets. “I should bring some home as a surprise for Crowley. We could leave poetic messages to each other on the icebox . . . or something.”

With that romantic idea firmly lodged in his brain, Aziraphale ran home with a couple of the kits under his arm. He opened one on the kitchen table in front of Crowley, who glared quite skeptically behind his sunglasses as the angel stuck the magnets to the fridge door.

“What are you s’posed to do with them?” the demon asked, picking up a magnet and scowling at it.

“You write poetry with them by sticking them next to each other. Like so.”

Aziraphale chose several magnets and “wrote” a couple of lines he felt were adequately poetic. Crowley leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his narrow chest, and frowned.

“Is that all?”

“What do you mean, is that all?” The angel pointed at the fridge, now covered with the little white rectangles. “Look, it’s fun! You can slide the magnets together any way you wish and create all manner of poems. It gets your . . . creative juices flowing. So to speak. It could be a new hobby, something we could do together!”

Crowley blew out an irritated sigh and stood up. “Well, I don’t have time for a new hobby, Angel. I have plants to attend to.” And with that, he tromped out of the kitchen.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, rather huffily, “that’s quite all right. It leaves me more magnets to play with.”

And play with them, he did. His first attempt at a magnetic poem went like so:

> the angel linger-ed  
>  in the sky  
>  his sacred heart at home  
>  at peace  
>  as ocean breeze-es perfume-ed  
>  the air like eternity-s breath  
>  I am joy  
>  surround-ed by life

He left for the bookshop, quite satisfied with his little psalm. While he was gone, Crowley happened to walk into the kitchen to refill his plant spritzer. He saw the angel’s “poem” on the fridge and decided to have a bit of fun by switching out a few of the words with ones he liked better:

> the angel linger-ed  
>  in the fire  
>  his fool-ed heart at home  
>  at night  
>  as smoke-y breezes warm-ed  
>  the air like eternity-s hole  
>  I am hot  
>  surround-ed by coffee

Aziraphale came home. As he was retrieving the milk for his tea, he discovered what Crowley had done. He rolled his eyes at the demon snickering behind his back.

“Well, if that’s the way you want to play it, I suppose I just have to do better.”

And so, he did:

> angel-s soft-ly fly  
>  over cloud-s  
>  their wake dazzle-ing  
>  like the star-s dance-ing in  
>  god-s vast universe  
>  remember her  
>  sacred magic

He stepped into the office with his tea to read before dinner, and Crowley had another go at the angel’s expense:

> angel-s soft-ly eat  
>  on pie-s  
>  their belly-s growl-ing  
>  like the dog-s crap-ing in  
>  god-s vast grass  
>  remember my  
>  caramel cake

“Oh, good Lord!”

Aziraphale grimaced at Crowley’s newest poetic accomplishment and sighed heavily. “Well, perhaps we should try something shorter . . . and less likely to be befouled by your demonic mind.” He opened the kit entitled “Nature Magnetic Poetry” and explained to Crowley how one writes a haiku.

“Here’s one off the top of my head,” he said as he slid the words into place

> the bough blossom-s green  
>  spring peace breathe-s life in-to tree  
>  eden spirit song

He stepped back and smiled at his work.

“All right, Crowley. Now, you try.”

The demon stared at the pile of fresh magnets. Suddenly, he smirked and lined up several new words under Aziraphale’s haiku.

> moss cover-s the bird  
>  beneath ancient brown grass root-s  
>  a wither-ed squirrel

Reading Crowley’s haiku, Aziraphale rolled his eyes as only an exasperated angel could.

“Perhaps we should stick to the hobbies we already know and love, shall we?” he said with resignation.

Crowley snickered and went back to watering his plants.


End file.
